The Covert Ventures of Zach Flame
by ZachFlame
Summary: What happened to Zach and the Warriors before they met? How did Zach recieve his 50. caliber Berreta? Who the heck is Alex Zanardi? Why does Aelita remember only bits and peices? NOT A SPOILER. DIFFERENT PLOT. Jerlita forementioned


The Covert Ventures of Zach Flame

August 1, 2004

Nance Residence

"So I'm goin' off to meet with the President and live in the White House for a week. No charge?" I asked as I read the letter that the Secret Service man gave me.

"Yes. Chavez and I will escort you to President Maverick and serve as your guards for the course of seven days and nights. For free." James Carson explained. '_This is the strangest way to recruit new agents. Damn the Brits for giving us the idea,' _he thought. ( A/N Hope you guys caught the reference! )

I looked at the buzz-cut Mexican standing next to Carson. He reached out his hand and I shook it. "Name's Diego, call me Ding. Nice arm," he said. _Good man_, I thought, _he knows a lot, but doesn't boast._

Now that the formalities are over, they led me into a limo and drove me to Nellis Air Force Base.

Nellis Air Force Base

The Secret Service agents waved badges to the Military Police and we walked to a hangar.

They lead me to a huge VC-25, one of the two famed Air Force One's, the only aircraft in the hangar. We climbed the stairs into the door. A Sergeant closed the door and led us into the forward most section. "This area is excluded to the president and his close advisors. This will include you for now," Ding said.

I could tell that he likes kids better than James, but that makes sense, Carson is older and any kids he had could be my teachers. As soon as I sit down, a stewardess (Lieutenant) gives me raspberry tea and a croissant to munch on.

I thanked her for the tea but declined on the pastry.

"Don't like croissants?"

"Love 'em, but I'm trying to keep fit for trap and swimming."

"You shoot shotguns?"

"Yeah, love the recoil that they give you."

"A twelve year old loves shooting the big fellas?" Ding interrupted.

"Weird huh? I'm gonna guess you were light infantry before joining the S.S."

"Yeah, I was a Ninja. Creepy how observant you are, 'mano. No offence man."

"None taken, Ding. I'm pretty analytical, like Jack Ryan from Tom Clancy's series."

" You read Tom Clancy?" They asked, surprised. Tom Clancy averaged 900 pages per book. The max has been 1300 pages.

"Love his books. Executive Orders is my favorite. 1300 pages of outstanding military fiction."

The C.I.A. agents in disguise looked at each other. '_ He's great for the job. If he can understand E.O., he can handle being the first minor American spook._

_Especially when he learns that his girlfriend and his best friend are with the RVS and Mossad._'

He sighed. '_They're just kids.' _ We talked about my workout plans and I showed them the 'Spartan Training' that I've come up with.

"It sounds good, bud. It'll work, and in a few months you'll see results," Carson said, approving of my idea. He was warming up to me.

The U.S.S.S agents watched as I beat each one in turn and pretty much everyone but the pilot (someone had to fly the plane) onboard in a game of chess. "How the hell did you do that?"

I laughed. "I'm just a good strategist. I guess that's how I won the contest."

"You put your strategy in the letter?"

"Yeah, I just got in the zone, you know?" Chavez knew, that was the main trait of C.I.A. agents- to place detail of your thoughts and the ability to act them out.

"What's your record for trap?" he asked.

" 78 disintegrations in a row. Stopped by a nick because the pigeon thrower was off and a gust blew up. I haven't missed a pigeon in ten months."

The stewardess whistled. "Damn, I wish I was that good with an M9," she said.

"As wonderful as the Berretta M9 is, their design isn't good for super accurate, powerful shots. It takes three or four rounds to take out a man. I'm trying to design a pistol with a big punch and capable of good accuracy.

Kinda like the famed Desert Eagle but with less recoil. I've got it down to the metal- I just need resources and money," I said.

"Tell me more, this sounds interesting."

The conversation continued all the way to Washington D.C. There, unknown to me, my life would change. For both good and bad.


End file.
